


Malignant

by seungshibari



Series: Request Collection [5]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Amnesia, Amputation, Anesthesia, Body Modification, Catheters, Deception, Feeding Tubes, Gaslighting, Hand Feeding, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Kim Seungmin is an Equestrian, M/M, Manipulation, Medical Experimentation, Medical Procedures, Medical Torture, Needles, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Sedation, Sponge Baths, Stockholm Syndrome, Unethical Experimentation, Unethical Medicine, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:54:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24727063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seungshibari/pseuds/seungshibari
Summary: “You have a big day tomorrow,” Seungmin whispered. Jisung didn’t know what that meant, but Seungmin smelled like cinnamon and cleanliness. And he was smart. Trusting him seemed like the right thing to do. “Do you want me to help you sleep?” Nodding timidly, Jisung reclined. “Take your shirt off for me and get comfortable.”Jisung did as he was told. Everything Seungmin said sounded reasonable to him.“Close your eyes, Jisung. You’re being a very good patient.” Seungmin’s voice was so cool and soothing that Jisung barely noticed the sensation of pads being attached to his bare torso. What he did pick up on, though, was the texture of smooth latex. He felt a little better about the situation; if Seungmin was wearing gloves, he had to know what he was doing, right?
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Kim Seungmin
Series: Request Collection [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1778398
Comments: 5
Kudos: 77





	Malignant

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BigBoyParty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigBoyParty/gifts).



> I DO NOT give permission for this fic or portions of this fic to be REPRODUCED or REUPLOADED without my express consent.
> 
> PLEASE READ ALL OF THE TAGS and BE MINDFUL! this fic contains descriptions of medical procedures (including amputation, catheterization, and intubation) being performed on an unwilling patient (jisung). if this is material that would be disturbing or triggering to you, i urge you to click away. 
> 
> thank you to eli for this request! here is [the playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3nmtpth62GcK0ScDjp0QRu) i made to accompany this fic. 
> 
> please visit [here](https://twitter.com/seungshibari/status/1268354869188050945) if you would like to request something! 
> 
> additionally, i want to take a moment to encourage you to read through [this page](https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/) to educate yourself on current situations regarding racial justice. it is on ALL OF US to fight, and there is room in the revolution for everyone. thank you!

“What do you remember?” The voice was cordial, but also harsh and nasal. It jerked Jisung out of his sleep and deposited him into a chair at the center of a bright room. He didn’t know how long he was out, all he knew was that he was still tired. The exhaustion was bone-deep. 

“I don’t remember anything,” Jisung explained, looking stunned.

“Oh,” the stranger’s response suggested disappointment. Jisung was instantly ashamed about whatever he had done to let down the stranger that sat across from him. Fiddling with his own knobby fingers, Jisung flexed his sore wrists nervously. It felt like he had been haphazardly dropped off inside his body. Like he didn’t really live there. 

He couldn’t identify the reason he was so comfortable in the situation. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t scream. Actually, he thought it was better for him to be quiet. He sat very still. If he tried to speak again, he knew he’d say something embarrassing and earn even more judgement from his interrogator. He didn’t want to - 

“I’m sorry,” Jisung murmured. 

It felt natural and good to apologize to this man. There was something in the stranger’s lush, sure eyes, or maybe it was buried in the fact that he spoke with such focus and control, that was distinctly, frighteningly familiar. He felt like Jisung’s antecedent. Tried and true. 

“You say that every time. I’m Seungmin.” A bit of light crept into Seungmin’s face as he straightened his posture, crossed his legs, and began to watch Jisung. Seungmin didn’t just  _ look _ , he  _ observed. _ It seemed like everything he did was wholly intentional. 

“What am I supposed to be remembering?” 

“It doesn’t matter. I’m here to take care of you while you recover. Do you want to sleep more?” That sounded like a good idea to Jisung, and he  _ was _ drowsy, so he nodded and allowed Seungmin to scoop him from the wicker chair and place him gently on the sterile hospital bed that sat in the corner of the room, surrounded by equipment. 

Jisung thought something really bad must have happened to him. 

“You have a big day tomorrow,” Seungmin whispered. Jisung didn’t know what that meant, but Seungmin smelled like cinnamon and cleanliness. And he was smart. Trusting him seemed like the right thing to do. “Do you want me to help you sleep?” Nodding timidly, Jisung reclined. “Take your shirt off for me and get comfortable.”

Jisung did as he was told. Everything Seungmin said sounded reasonable to him. 

“Close your eyes, Jisung. You’re being a very good patient.” Seungmin’s voice was so cool and soothing that Jisung barely noticed the sensation of pads being attached to his bare torso. What he did pick up on, though, was the texture of smooth latex. He felt a little better about the situation; if Seungmin was wearing gloves, he had to know what he was doing, right? 

With a gentle sigh, Seungmin positioned a plastic mask over Jisung’s nose and mouth. “Big breaths in and out for me,” Seungmin instructed, “you’re doing great.” His lids sank lethargically. Seungmin grasped Jisung’s lazy hand, which had flopped uselessly off the perimeter of the hospital bed. Soon, Jisung felt like he didn’t have a hand at all. He felt like he was thawing. Being absorbed by the aseptic sheets. More than anything, though, he felt nice. 

Seungmin let go and chose to stroke Jisung’s legs until the ephedrine finally took him. 

Now, it was Seungmin’s turn to take. 

* * *

When Jisung woke up, he was nauseous. His eyes flickered open to gaze at the ceiling, only for them to unceremoniously fall shut again as his head lolled back. His claustrophobic brain was stuffed with cotton but most of him was as light as helium. He was swiftly pacified by the black velour of the space behind his lids. He couldn’t exhaust excess energy by staring around the room, not when the heavy part of his body was telling him to cough. His throat was sore and tight. Heaving, he brought one hand to his chest and felt his interior rattle. 

Seungmin responded with ease and calm, deeming Jisung ready to join the world of the living again. He elevated the hospital bed so Jisung wouldn’t choke on his own vomit, hoping to ease his stomach, but Seungmin’s considerate motion was rendered useless when Jisung saw his body. What was left of it. 

Jisung’s legs, both of them, were severed above the knee. The remainder of each limb was clad in a rigid, plaster-of-paris dressing. They had been  _ halved _ . Emphatically, he was more bandage than flesh. And Seungmin was absolutely beaming. He couldn’t help it; he was proud. It had gone so well. His smile weakened a bit when Jisung retched again, coating his shirt with the contents of his stomach. Seungmin frowned in pity and grabbed a nearby towel, mopping up Jisung’s torso. 

“What did you  _ do _ to me?” Jisung blubbered, jerking his head away when Seungmin brough the cloth to his lips to clean his wet, flushed mouth. 

“What did I  _ do to you _ ? I  _ saved  _ you. You can’t take care of yourself. Things will be easier like this.” Seungmin’s comforting tone contrasted with the stern hand he pressed to Jisung’s shoulder to push him back against the headrest. “Please lay still. You’re going to get hurt.” The genuine concern in his voice implied that Jisung was the bad guy for rejecting a gift, slapping away a charitable hand extended to him. Seungmin glided towards the foot of the bed, petting Jisung’s casts and looking at him with pity, like he was a petulant child who didn’t know what was best for him. 

Maybe Jisung didn’t know what was best for him. Maybe it was true that he had been saved, given another chance. Something really bad must have happened to him. He must have been really, really hurt before. Hypotheses developed in rapid succession, all created with the intention of excusing the fact that Seungmin had  _ amputated him _ .

It would be much less painful for Jisung to believe that Seungmin had done all this for his own good. After all, Seungmin had given him somewhere to rest. Incredulous, Seungmin made a show of collapsing into the chair at Jisung’s bedside, pressing a palm to his forehead and sniffling wetly. 

The oily sheen of sweat gave Jisung a feverish, desperate appearance. He wheezed shallowly and then spoke up, his voice cracking: “I’m sorry.” 

“Really?” Seungmin looked up from the floor. An enthusiastic smile climbed up to his toffee-brown eyes and suddenly Jisung was swaddled in the simple pleasure of gratifying someone. What an easy way to live - to exist. He didn’t even think before affirming again that yes, he was sorry, he was so sorry for being selfish. 

“You mean it?” Jisung nodded. He noticed Seungmin’s face was dry. Seungmin hadn’t cried at all. His joy, fake or not, was contagious, and it pulled a bark-like laugh from behind the wall of phlegm in Jisung’s sore throat. And then another. Jisung couldn’t stop, he kept laughing and grinning and snorting until Seungmin brought a gloved hand to his mouth. All of Seungmin’s endearing insecurity evaporated with a single action. “I’m glad you get it. Rest now.” A utilitarian expectation, devoid of the personality and affection he’d displayed before. 

“I’m going to clean you, Jisung. You got yourself all dirty when you first woke up.” Seungmin grabbed a sponge from the space beneath the bed and began to wipe down Jisung’s filthy chest. His skin was a tense red, mottled by chunks of vomit. Jisung watched Seungmin glide the warm sponge over his bare, angry flesh, tracing his abdominal muscles. He was biting his lip, focused intently. 

“Do you think I’m pretty?” 

“No,” Seungmin lied. 

Reaching into the bedside tray, Seungmin brushed his fingers loudly past the host of metal implements and instead fished something out of a petite, watercolour bowl. A sugar cube. “Open up,” Seungmin instructed, and placed the treat onto Jisung’s dry, twitchy tongue. “Don’t swallow it yet.” 

Jisung let his tongue hang out, trying to balance the treat. He looked weak and dumb and hungry. Seungmin plucked the sugar cube from Jisung’s big mouth and held it insultingly above his face. He was mesmerized, enchanted. The room’s chilly, unyielding light made the sugar sparkle. And it made Seungmin into a god. 

“Do you want to know what I think? I think… that since you’ve failed to take care of yourself,” Seungmin continued, “you deserve to be stripped of your autonomy. Does that make sense?” Jisung’s eyes went painfully wide and Seungmin placed the sugar cube back onto his tired tongue. It made sense.

“Anyways,” he extracted his fingers and grabbed a towel, dabbing at Jisung’s damp skin, “I hope you like your snack. I brought a bunch back from the stable.” 

Jisung swallowed thickly and stuck his tongue out again. 

Seungmin pretended not to notice and left the room.

* * *

“Your catheter is going in today, Jisung.” Seungmin ran his fingers over Jisung’s greasy scalp and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “This is just another way to make things easier for you.” Every time Seungmin put his lips to Jisung’s temple, he felt like his face was going to cave in. 

“Easier for  _ us _ .” Pinching Jisung’s sallow cheek, Seungmin walked away to gather the necessary equipment. Jisung took the moment of solitude to take inventory of himself. The room’s permanently harsh lighting left his eyes watery, giving him a stupefied expression that never budged. They hurt. His nubby limbs were healing well, but they hurt, too. 

Seungmin rewarded Jisung whenever he watched his stumps get cleaned. “Look at my hands on the sutures, Sungie,” he would instruct, “and I’ll give you another sugar cube.” Jisung had learned to control his disgust for the most part, but it was still difficult to stomach the archaic-looking stitches that knitted the skin of his thighs together. 

The sweets made things better. Sometimes, even, Seungmin would take his doctor’s gloves off and let Jisung lick at his bare fingers, hand-feeding him. It was almost romantic. 

Almost. 

“You’re going to put a tube in my  _ dick? _ ” 

Jisung’s voice was hoarse with disuse. Seungmin acted like it was the most idiotic question he’d ever heard and replied with the same level of distaste he had heard in Jisung’s question. “ _ Yes? _ ” A catheter was a reasonable next step for Jisung’s descent into complete reliance on Seungmin. He rolled his eyes and efficiently removed the packaging from the catheter pack. 

He lifted Jisung up by his bandaged thighs and placed an absorbent pad beneath him. “In case you leak,” Seungmin justified, grabbing a cotton ball from the trolley and cleaning Jisung’s cock. He grabbed Jisung’s soft dick and wiggled a syringe into his urethra. Jisung cringed as he felt the injection, letting out an immature little shriek. “It’s just a local anesthetic. Relax.” 

Placing a colon-shaped tray beneath Jisung’s balls, Seungmin loudly unwrapped the catheter and smiled sardonically at Jisung. He maintained an unfriendly grip on Jisung’s shaft as he began to insert the catheter, that same brutal smirk playing across his face as the catheter tube disappeared into Jisung. Using a syringe, Seungmin began to inflate the catheter balloon. Jisung made a noise of pointed discomfort, which Seungmin ignored as he worked quickly to attach the catheter bag, positioning it below Jisung. 

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Removing his gloves with a sharp snap, Seungmin grabbed a sugar cube and popped it into his own mouth. 

“Can you at least... cover it up?” Jisung had brought his hands up to hide his eyes, clearly humiliated by the device. 

“What? Your cock? How else am I supposed to monitor you?” 

And like everything else Seungmin said, it made sense. 

Jisung uncovered his eyes and stared blankly at the tube sprouting from his limp cock.

* * *

“This is your last sugar cube,” Seungmin warned before he maneuvered his hand towards Jisung. He held the treat in between Jisung’s parted lips, hovering it tauntingly above his cracked tongue. Instead of trying to follow Seungmin’s teasing fingers, his tired mouth hung open dumbly. Good. 

The insertion of the feeding tube was lovingly choreographed. 

Measuring the length from the tip of Jisung’s nose, to his earlobe, to his sternum, Seungmin carefully marked the point on the plastic at which he planned to stop threading it through Jisung’s nostrils. 

“Are you excited?” Jisung neglected to answer. He stared emptily at the whirlpool of excess tubing. Sterile and unchanging light bathed the tray. He briefly remembered the sun. He missed the sun. 

“Are you afraid?” Seungmin thrust a small cup of water into his hand and Jisung nodded. 

“You’ll be alright. It’ll be uncomfortable at first, but then you won’t have to worry about eating anymore. I’ll take care of it for you, just like I’m taking care of everything else.” Seungmin gestured vaguely at Jisung’s lower body, indicating that he was referring to the tightly bandaged stumps and catheter. 

Seungmin dunked a straw in Jisung’s cup. “You need to drink this, okay? Sip and swallow.” Jisung did a poor job of hiding his apprehension, but he had nothing of value to contribute, no objection, so he tentatively placed his lips around the straw. He knew that Seungmin did enough talking for the both of them. Anything Jisung wanted to say, Seungmin had already thought of and assembled into a sentence that would make better sense than anything Jisung could ever hope to collage together. 

Rolling the distal end of the tube in lubricant, Seungmin instructed Jisung to look straight ahead. He began to feed the tube into Jisung’s nostril, towards his ear. The pain he felt was consistent and incessant. Jisung’s face screwed up in a twinge of discomfort as his eyes went dewy. “Keep sipping,” Seungmin advised, disregarding Jisung’s tears and squeaks.

“Open,” he instructed. Noting the tube levitating at the back of Jisung’s red throat, he smiled brightly. “Close.” Jisung obeyed and continued nervously sipping the water. When Seungmin reached the mark he’d made earlier, he fixed his stare on Jisung. “This is a nice look for you,” he remarked warmly, and taped the tube to Jisung’s nose and cheek. He disposed of his gloves and returned to Jisung’s bedside with a bowl of sugar cubes. 

Seungmin sucked on one thoughtfully, cradling his chin in his hand as he scanned over Jisung’s altered - no,  _ improved _ \- body. 

The stunted limbs, the spiraling tubes. Seungmin’s generous gifts to him. 

“In one end and out the other,” Seungmin observed lovingly, “perfect.” 

* * *

Jisung was rendered transcendentally worthless. It seemed so taxing for Seungmin to maintain the fleet of machines that kept Jisung functioning. In this state, he was unable to exist without someone to  _ operate _ him. 

He wouldn’t dare give his opinion. Even if Jisung wanted to say something about it, he couldn’t, especially not with the second feeding tube that Seungmin had merrily shoved down his throat. He had one through his nose, one through his mouth. It made sense. He could still blink, though. He’d recently started opening and shutting them rapidly, over and over, until his field of vision felt like a glitched-out TV with one channel. Jisung wasn’t sure when Seungmin planned to take his eyes away, so he cherished the ability while he still had it. 

“Please stop doing that,” Seungmin’s exasperation was tangible as he reached up and used a gloved thumb to pull Jisung’s lids shut. “It’s weird.” He obeyed for a few moments before peeking, watching Seungmin reinsert his catheter. Seungmin said this to him every time, as justification, “you have to be clean for me.” 

Of his own volition, Jisung closed his eyes and focused on his tubes. 

He had to be clean. 

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are always appreciated! 
> 
> feel free to contact me elsewhere:  
> ⚜ [twitter](https://twitter.com/seungshibari)  
> ⚜ [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/seungshibari)


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